


Young Blood Must

by crescenttwins



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dragons, Gen, Knights - Freeform, Mental Coercion, Sorcerers, Swords & Sorcery, suzalulu week 2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescenttwins/pseuds/crescenttwins
Summary: “Tell me,” the man says, voice mockingly sweet, “what are you doing in a sorcerer’s home, little Britannian knight?” A fairytale AU in (more than) seven parts, started in suzalulu week 2016!





	1. Day 1: Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and to touchreceptors for being a lovely lovely mod and putting all of this time into suzalulu week 2016!
> 
> /carefully nudges other AUs under the desk

Suzaku isn’t sure what he was expecting-- a dark tower, perhaps, with ominous clouds filling the sky around it, lightning jumping through the gaps; a moldy stench, the heavy smell of iron combating the rot of a decrepit home; or even the cloudy smoke of an underground club, wealth dripping off of anonymous fingers and lips.

His expectations are not: a well-lit cabin, carefully groomed rose bushes clustered around the entrance of the home. Neither did they include the gentle sound of water from the nearby stream, the smell of freshly baked bread, or laundry, strung in an orderly line to catch the sunlight.

He looks at the map the Emperor has given him, squints. Suzaku has come to the wrong house, surely, and there is nothing to do about it. There is certainly no way that this could be the stronghold of a villain (or even someone who refused to house strays, he thinks, spotting the odd combination of a cat and a lizard in the window).

Suzaku turns the paper about, trying to get his bearings from the well-folded paper, but it delivers no clarity. There will be no helping it, he decides. Suzaku, the newly minted Knight of Britannia, will have to intrude upon this kind person’s home and ask for directions. With any luck, he thinks, this story will never get back to the rest of the Knighthood: the silly rookie who almost stormed into a good citizen’s home, and had the audacity to then ask for directions to their enemy’s fortress.

He’ll be as quick and unthreatening as possible, Suzaku thinks, and starts on the oddly clean pathway up to the house. He’ll apologize for interrupting their meal, show them the paper map and be on his way.

Suzaku’s foot slips, and that should be the first sign that something is wrong-- but he chalks it up to the recent rain, too caught up in his thoughts as he shifts his weight onto his other foot to recover his balance. This foot too, _slips_ , and Suzaku looks up from the paper to realize that the walkway is shifting, slick stone moving upright around him like a cage. Suzaku pushes off the walkway, his foot slipping against the ( _greased_ , he curses) stone, and all he can do is fall.

He falls for a short time, chucks his left brace down to gauge the distance to the ground. It hits the ground alarmingly soon, loud enough that Suzaku braces himself and rolls into a crouch as he hits the ground.

Light is streaming in from the gap he fell between, illuminating what he can only describe as a dungeon cell. Tall metal bars create one wall, barely a finger’s length apart; the remaining walls are cold stone. There is a strange buzzing, like the sound of a generator, but what it could be powering Suzaku couldn’t say.

Suzaku knocks his fist against the wall, disappointed but not surprised at the lack of a hollow echo.  He paces the floor of the room, measuring out the size of his cell; wonders of the strength of the bars, whether they would stand against his sword; traces the walls and edges with his eyes, boxes them up; wonders if he could climb back out of the hole he fell through.

His first attempt is a failure. His second, third, and fourth attempts are not better, and Suzaku spares a thought that perhaps he had not gotten the wrong location after all-- perhaps this _is_ the home of the dastardly sorcerer who had taken one of the Emperor’s daughters captive.

It is an unfortunately sobering thought, one that Suzaku would rather not dwell on, because no matter what this _will_ be a story that gets passed around the Knighthood, the baby knight who needed a rescue on his very first mission. He pulls out his panic button, a heavy and gaudy thing emblazoned with the seal of Britannia, and presses the top.

The promised shrieking noise (guaranteed to tear eardrums, he had been assured) didn’t sound.

He presses it again, waits.

Nothing.

He holds the button down. He requests help in Morse code. He speaks into it. He taps the heavy casing in time with his heartbeat, slides his finger against the cover in his identifying code, lets his finger drum against the button mindlessly.

Nothing.

Finally he throws it against the bars of the cage, useless ornamental paperweight. It goes through the bars and smashes against the opposite wall.  Suzaku sits with a sigh-- it wasn’t working anyway.

He will simply have to wait.

 

* * *

  

It is far too long before Suzaku hears the sound of footsteps, light enough that the person can’t possibly be wearing armor. He turns to face the prison bars just as a rail thin male comes into view, wielding a flashlight and a slightly surprised face. The surprise is awkward on him, twists his mouth and the movements of his fingers as he brushes black bangs out of his face. His violet eyes settle on Suzaku almost unwillingly.

“I knew the trap had been triggered,” the other male says to his own shoulder. “I half expected it to be Arthur again, but now I’m not too sure what to do. What are we supposed to do with a random stranger?”

“I’m not dangerous,” Suzaku says, and puts his arms up.

The other male looks at the sword belted at his waist pointedly.

“I’m armed,” Suzaku admits.

“And therefore dangerous,” the stranger returns. He turns back to his shoulder. “You should get back to Nunnally, please. I’ll be up in a moment.” A shape seems to slide off of his shoulder, and it takes a moment for Suzaku to recognize it as the lizard from the window before.

“If you were really harmless, I would let you go.”

“Would you?”

“I would-- it wouldn’t be difficult to get you to forget all of this, return to your home and never come back.”  The man picks up the panic button from where it landed, turning it until the Britannian crest faces Suzaku. “But _this_ changes things.”

A sense of foreboding slithers up Suzaku’s chest.

“Tell me,” the man says, voice mockingly sweet, “what are you doing in a sorcerer’s home, little Britannian knight?”


	2. Day 2: The heart may forget, but the body remembers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re trying to kill me,” Suzaku says, dumbfounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2! Thank you for all of the kudos and lovely comments, and I hope you enjoy! <3

The space beneath Suzaku’s ribs feels tight, as though the air in his lungs is compressing itself, not wanting to be exposed before the bright violet eyes of the sorcerer. He forces out an exhale, watches the way the other male’s pale fingers dig into the emblem of Britannia emblazoned on his panic button. 

What kind of answer would a true knight give, Suzaku wonders. 

The stories don’t speak of knights who are captured by sorcerers-- only the ones that defeat them and free the kingdom from their oppressive presence. The stories only speak of the glory of the Knighthood; only acknowledge the ones who are successful and contribute to the empire’s reign. 

They don’t speak of the knights who disappear, lives lost to the avaricious nature of their Emperor.  They don’t speak of those who lose limbs and blood and heart to the magic users in trade for the security of the realm. 

They don’t speak of the strain the endless conquering puts on their men, nor the bone-deep exhaustion that allows knights to look away from atrocities ( _ betraying the very oath of their knighthood) _ .

They don’t speak of what happens to knights  _ after _ , and they don’t speak of sorcerers who live in picturesque cabins, either. 

What kind of answer would a true knight give, Suzaku wonders.

Finally ( _ an eternity later _ ), Suzaku opens his mouth to answer, but the other male interrupts, “Well, I suppose it doesn’t truly matter.”

Suzaku blinks, but the sorcerer walks to the far wall, runs his fingers across the grooves in the stone. He mutters something, soft enough that Suzaku can’t hear, but a pattern in the wall flares red, almost whimsical curves arcing along the ceiling before terminating in the walls of his dungeon cell in sharp edges and whorls. 

“Don’t worry,” the sorcerer says, almost gentle, “they won’t be able to find your body.”

The foreboding sense is heavier now, weighty enough that Suzaku grips the hilt of his sword and drops to the floor on instinct. He watches the bright red flare of something ( _ magic, it must be magic _ ) pass over him, hissing as it is reabsorbed into the mass of lines on the opposing wall. A slightly smoky scent lingers in the air in the moments afterwards.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Suzaku says, dumbfounded. 

“I am,” the sorcerer agrees. “The Knights of Britannia are more trouble than I care to keep, and if you’re carrying this around,” he gestures to the device, “you’re new enough yet that they won’t think too hard if you vanish.” His eyes flicker to the side, and Suzaku rolls just fast enough to dodge the whipping motion of another red flare. It wriggles when it contacts the ground, a new curved line added to the ever growing pattern. 

“And yet you don’t have the honor to kill me by your own hand?” Suzaku tries.

The sorcerer says slowly, as if speaking to a small child, “I wouldn’t win, so why should I?” 

Another flare.

“A duel, then!” Suzaku offers. “Your magic versus my sword.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” The other male asks. “You do have your sword, after all.”

Gritting his teeth, Suzaku rolls forward to avoid two red whips of light, then lunges to let a third pass over his head. “This isn’t exactly  _ fair _ .” He eyes the walls, keeping himself crouched, trying to anticipate which one will come next.

“I’m surprised you’re talking about fairness, given that  _ you _ are the one who intruded upon my home.”

Suzaku jumps as a red coil from beneath his feet comes alive, hissing as it catches the side of his thigh. “ _ I just wanted directions!” _

Abruptly, the coils stop writhing along the stone, still humming, and the sorcerer says, “What?”

Suzaku stands warily, eyes darting across the walls and floor, as he repeats, “I just wanted directions.”

“Directions,” the other male repeats tonelessly. “You stumbled upon my cabin and came here for  _ directions _ . As a Britannian knight, you just  _ happened _ to come across me.”

“Well,” Suzaku admits, “I misread a map.”

“A  _ map _ .”

“There’s supposed to be a rather dastardly sorcerer who’s kidnapped a princess,” Suzaku says, “and I was given a map to his home.”

He watches the sorcerer rub his eyes in the peripheries of his vision. 

“To be fair,” Suzaku says, “I think this might have been the correct location after all. Do you happen to have a princess stashed somewhere?” The sorcerer makes some motion with his arms and the red coils pulse an angry red. Tensing, Suzaku lets his eyes follow the curve of the nearest one, watch as its edges seem to grow impossibly sharper, like the finest skinning blade.

“If you,” the other male says, his voice hard, “ _ think _ that I will let--” 

The sound of stone shifting interrupts his words, followed by the quiet rumble of something moving across a cobbled floor. The sorcerer straightens, runs his fingers against the wall again, and the red lines vanish with a bright flare of light, bright enough that they leave imprints on Suzaku’s sight.

Blinking away the lingering impressions, Suzaku returns his gaze to the sorcerer. The other male is staring at something out of view, the lines of his body shifting into something softer. 

“Sayoko said we had a visitor,” says an unexpectedly sweet voice a moment later, the sound a welcome respite to the ( _ magical _ ) buzzing that Suzaku can still hear from the walls of his cell. 

The sorcerer shifts, in a way that Suzaku would call guilty if he knew the man, and agrees. 

“He fell into the pathway trap, right?” The rumbling continues until a petite girl comes into view. She’s pretty, curls the color of wet sand cascading down her back, but her loveliness doesn’t distract Suzaku from the device she’s seated in.  It is shaped like a flower, runes carved into the edges of the chair, shining gold. “I told you the pathway trap was a good idea-- much better than the electricity trap that kept making the roses wilt, even if it's more difficult to maintain.”

The other male moves forward, nearly soundlessly, and kneels before the chair. “You shouldn’t be out of bed yet-- you’re still recovering, aren’t you?”

She shushes him with a smile, and Suzaku realizes abruptly that her eyes have been shut the entire time. The skin around her eyes is dark and swollen, painful-looking in a way that is at odds with the words she speaks next. “You shouldn’t worry about that! It’s not as though staying in bed will help my magical circuits recover.”

Another magic user, then, Suzaku thinks. But one that is less likely to demand that he be wiped from the earth. 

The sorcerer makes a sound of protest, but the girl is already turned towards Suzaku. “May I ask for your name, dear visitor?”

Suzaku straightens and bows, months of etiquette training keeping his shoulders back and head bowed slightly. “My name is Suzaku Kururugi, a knight of the realm of Britannia. I am here on a quest to rescue a princess from a villainous sorcerer who has taken her captive against her will.”

The sorcerer snorts, but the girl is smiling. “And is the princess’s name, perhaps, Nunnally vi Britannia?”

Suzaku blinks. “It is.”

“Then good afternoon, Sir Kururugi,” the sorceress says, “it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Nunnally vi Britannia, and I am most certainly not confined against my will.”  She turns to the other male, gesturing for him to come forward. “And this is my companion, the sorcerer Zero.”


	3. Day 3: “Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity” - George Carlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now then,” the princess says, smiling. “Why don’t you tell me about your quest?”

Zero tilts up his chin when Suzaku looks at him, a challenge present in violet eyes, and Suzaku can do nothing but stare, mind stuttering to a halt as he processes Nunnally’s words. She is smiling encouragingly when his eyes return to her.

“I-- I don’t understand,” Suzaku says, finally.

“Then we should speak,” Nunnally responds, tilting her head at the sorcerer. “A conversation in the garden would be pleasant, since the weather feels good for it.” Her eyes remain shut as she speaks, and Suzaku can see a faint unevenness to the dark edges around her eyes that means the injury is recent, healing.

They say that Nunnally vi Britannia has the eyes of her mother, the late Lady Marianne vi Britannia: a rare color seen only in precious stones and the most expensive flowers. It had been something of a challenge among dye makers, as Suzaku understands it, to recreate the color of her eyes while the Emperor was courting her.  

In truth, it remains a color of rumor-- because shortly after the dye had been perfected, the Lady lost her oldest child to a bandit attack. The sole piece of cloth to ever hold the color had been used to pad the inside of the late prince’s empty coffin: an homage to her only son. 

And if the princess was a sorceress, then perhaps her mother was, as well-- magic imbuing their eyes with some otherworldly enchantment. Suzaku’s eyes return to the now impatient stare of Zero, eyes a sharp, accusing violet, and thinks that if the princess’s eyes are anything like her companion’s, they must be beautiful indeed.

After a moment more of staring, Zero sighs, gesturing Suzaku forward.

The knight obeys, moving to step close to the bars of his cell.

The sorcerer gestures him forward again.

Suzaku steps closer, near enough that the air of his breath passes through the metal bars.

Zero gestures him forward again.

“I don’t know if you realize this,” Suzaku says, “but there are bars here that I cannot cross.”

The sorcerer blinks at him, surprised for a moment, and then clicks his tongue. “You _can_ cross them.”

Suzaku slams his palm against the solid bars, meets Zero’s eyes again as the echo rings throughout the dungeon. “I cannot.”

The other male sighs, and reaches forward, hand passing through the gap in the bars to grasp at the front of Suzaku’s tunic. “ _Believe_ ,” the sorcerer says, “that you can pass through, or this next part will hurt you.” Then he _tugs_ , and Suzaku struggles against the resistance of the bars, horrible pressure as his bones come against unyielding steel, and he shouts as he feels a rib crack. His lungs feel collapsed in his chest, and Suzaku thinks, mind muddled with pain as he tries to recall what Zero had said--

_What if he’s not trying to kill me?_

And the pressure abruptly disappears, Suzaku falling forward on the other side of the cell bars. He lands on his hands and knees, gasping for breath, his chest on fire and torn thigh aching.

“You can, see?” Zero says, nonchalant, and Suzaku grits his teeth as he tries to convince himself that breathing is more important than launching himself at this _damned_ sorcerer. “The pure of heart _always_ can.”

Suzaku exhales harshly, not liking the pull of pain in his side, before finally stretching out on his back to open his chest without putting pressure on his broken rib.

“I...don’t know the last time the dungeon floor has been cleaned,” the sorcerer says awkwardly.

Suzaku laughs despite the flare of pain in his side, because a moment ago he passed through metal bars like they were made of air, and if there is anything he is worrying over, it is certainly not _dirt_.

“Nunnally,” Zero warns, “the knight may be out of his mind.”  He whistles, the sound sharp, and Suzaku sits up as a dark shape ( _the lizard, again_ ) crawls up the other male’s arm. “I will need to fetch your potions, but Sayoko can accompany you and your... _guest_ , to the gardens.”

“Please make sure to bring some for Sir Kururugi as well,” Nunnally says, lifting an arm to help the lizard transfer to her chair. And it’s a bizarre creature, Suzaku thinks, raised stumps on the ridges of its shoulders and with scales the color of fine ink. "It smells like he's lost quite a bit of blood."

“If you _insist_ ,” Zero agrees, voice too fond to hold any sort of irritation. He steps away from them, making his way through a now-revealed corridor, and Suzaku gives himself a few more moments to breathe as deeply as his rib allows before standing up and grinning at the princess.

“I believe you mentioned a garden,” he says, and Nunnally smiles at him in return.

“Please follow me,” Nunnally responds, curling her fingers in a pattern against her flower chair. The golden runes along its edges grow brighter for a moment, and the shape of the top petal of her chair twists, linking into a groove along the ceiling. When Suzaku looks closer, there is a network of such grooves in the ceiling, each shaped to perfectly hold the edge of her chair. A moment later, her chair is sliding through the hall with a familiar rumbling sound.

Suzaku follows her, up through a series of dark tunnels, path illuminated only by the pale glow of the runes on her chair. Every few steps he thinks he can see the gleam of the lizard’s eyes, watching him over the edge of Nunnally’s chair.

A maze of pathways later, sunlight filters through the edges of a door, and it slides open as Nunnally’s chair approaches. The garden that comes into view is not what Suzaku was expecting: not the collection of rare and transient flowers, each head a year’s salary; and not the collection of pungent odors and garish colors that he had grown familiar with at the palace.

The garden that comes into view is more practical-- fruit and vegetables, healthy stalks that are lush to the eye and fed water through a series of channels connected to the nearby stream. At the center of the garden is a small three-legged table, a single chair accompanying it. Nunnally’s chair slots neatly against the table, and she offers the remaining chair to him.

“You should put pressure on your injury,” Nunnally says. “If L-- if _Zero_ was using his attack runes, then that wound won’t stop bleeding until he uses the counterspell.”

Suzaku sits, tears his neckerchief to bind his thigh. Given how much blood he’s already lost, he decides to make a tourniquet rather than a bandage.

“Now then,” she says, smiling. “Why don’t you tell me about your quest?”

“My quest was to rescue you from your imprisonment,” Suzaku responds, finishing a knot. “By order of the Emperor.”

The silence that greets him is unexpected.

Suzaku looks up, sees Nunnally’s pale face, and a moment later he jerks back as the lizard _leaps_ at him. The stubs on its shoulder blades pulse before expanding into spiked wings, matched with its growing body; every part becoming deadlier, thick muscle sliding beneath sharp scales. The momentum of the creature’s charge is enough to bring Suzaku down, and he gasps as he lands badly, fire lacing up his side. The monster’s teeth are bared as it pins him to the ground, and red eyes gleam above him as fully grown wings spread open to cage him in. The sound that comes from its maw makes the earth shiver, and Suzaku--

He has never seen a dragon before, Suzaku thinks inanely. And he is going to die-- and not in the way he thought he was going to die during training, body worn and broken down, classmates mocking; not in the way he had expected to when he had first been told to fight a sorcerer alone, nevermind the fact that the Knighthood had entire battalions created to perform the same task.

At least he will be like the knights of old, Suzaku thinks, the honorable knights who dared to fight even dragons for the peace of the realm.

“Sayoko,” Nunnally says, and the dragon steps off of him. “Sayoko, I’m fine. Please let him go.”

The dragon lets out a sound that Suzaku might have described as a sigh, if it hadn’t been coming from a beast perched above him and out of a sharp-toothed mouth. Then it ( _she? Sayoko?)_ pads back to Nunnally’s side, shrinking just enough to match the size of her chair. When Suzaku sits up, holding his side, the dragon flares its wings once.

Suzaku flinches.

Apparently satisfied with this response, the dragon settles, head resting against the top of Nunnally’s chair.

“My apologies, Sir Kururugi.” The princess says, stroking the dragon’s head. “She and Zero are both protective of me.”

Suzaku wishes he could laugh, but the way the beast-- _Sayoko_ , he reminds himself sternly-- is eying him makes him think that would be a poor decision. Instead he stands, pushing the chair upright from where it had been knocked aside, and sits at the table.

“Let’s begin again,” Nunnally says. “What did the emperor say to you, _exactly_?”

Suzaku exhales, and brings his map from his pocket. “The Emperor told me of a princess who had been kidnapped long ago by an enemy of the realm. A princess who had the ability to see into the future, and was being used by a villainous sorcerer who would sell the information to the highest bidder on the black market.” He taps the map, murmuring, “A sorcerer that would let Britannia burn, given the chance, and a princess who was in great peril. I didn’t need to hear anything else.”


	4. Day 4A: Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just got back, huh?” The other knight says, pushing a roll of bread towards Suzaku. “Man, the first mission is always a newbie killer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the comments and kudos! <3 Let us cheerfully foray into plot now!

They sit in silence for a moment, long enough that Suzaku hears the sound of glass ringing long before Zero comes into view, a tray of tea and three vials of crimson liquid in his hands. He makes his way into the garden from another entrance, more well-lit than the path Suzaku and Nunnally had taken.

The other male eyes Sayoko for the briefest moment as he places the tray on the table, and then Suzaku when he realizes the two are not making any sort of conversation.

“Have we decided to kill him, then,” Zero says, conversational as he prepares Nunnally a cup of tea, adding one vial of the crimson liquid. Sliding it to the edge of the table with a distinct clink, he turns to Suzaku. His eyes are narrowed, mouth drawn into an unhappy line.

“Don’t frown at him, Zero,” Nunnally scolds, eyes still closed as she brings the tea to her lips.

“Certainly not,” the sorcerer agrees, but continues frowning.

“It isn’t his fault, truly,” she says, “I was just a bit startled by something he said.”

“Something he _said_ ,” Zero emphasizes, and lets his finger trace the runes on the edge of the table in a way that Suzaku finds uncomfortably menacing. “Well, I have always been of the opinion that a foolish messenger is just as valuable dead as he is alive.”

“ _Zero_ ,” Nunnally orders, stern. “We will not be killing Sir Kururugi.”

The sorcerer waits a moment before sighing. He tosses one of the remaining vials to Suzaku in a single motion. “Drink that,” he acquiesces, “and stop staining the stone with your blood.” Then, abrupt, “I assume we are sending him home, then?”

“Correct,” Nunnally says. “In one piece and with his memories intact.”

Suzaku startles as he uncorks the vial, watching the two interact through his hair. Memory manipulation is a rare skill, even in the realm of mind arts. It was also one of the few that the Emperor had decreed grounds for immediate execution of the magic user. He swallows the potion quickly, feeling the rush of heat gather in his thigh and chest before burning cold.

The sorcerer sighs, and then agrees. “Have you gotten everything you wanted from him, then?”

“I have,” Nunnally says. “But I suspect what I wanted is very different from what you do.”

Zero smiles, wry and proud. He leans over the table, turns Suzaku to face him, and draws a thin slip of red out of his pocket. It bubbles, sloshing out of shape for a moment before settling back into a rectangular form.  “I wonder if you know what this is, _knight_.”

Suzaku meets his eyes. “A blood binding.” He curses mentally, thinking of what he has left in the dungeon and across the passageways, more than enough to generate that binding.

“Correct,” the sorcerer says. “Do you know what it does?”

“A blood binding,” Suzaku recites slowly from memory, “is a transformative spell that uses blood as the basis for magical contracts.”

“Correct again,” Zero says. “Now, what do you think I’m going to do with it?” He strokes over the binding with long fingers, watches the fluid move against his fingers absently.

Suzaku sighs, closing his eyes. He categorizes his injuries-- his thigh feels mostly healed, his rib no longer aching when he breathes. What purpose would a sorcerer have for healing a knight if he were only going to kill him? “I don’t know,” Suzaku says, finally. “Force me to attack someone, I imagine.”

Zero snorts. “Anyone worth attacking, I wouldn’t attack by _proxy_. No, I want something different from you.”

“Different?”

“Information. I want information on the state of the palace, the plans of the Emperor, the general populace.”

“I will not betray my country for you,” Suzaku says.

“That’s all right,” Zero says. “I’ll make it easier for you.” He slips the blood binding around Suzaku’s wrist, whispers a word that reminds Suzaku of wind through the trees, and the binding unfurls into thick runes that flare red against Suzaku’s skin before vanishing. “You will return here at least once every three months, or that binding will stop your heart.”

Suzaku exhales sharply. “That won’t make me give you information--”

“I’m aware,” Zero says. “That part requires a bit of a different touch.”  He wraps a hand around the back of Suzaku’s head, turns it so they are facing one another. It is unexpectedly intimate, the way their eyes meet, and the sorcerer murmurs, “ _Tell me about Britannia_.”

He lets Suzaku go, and words fall from Suzaku’s mouth before he can process them: words of the academy, of the instructors and superiors, and of the conditions of the roads and the villages he passed in his travels. At third hour, Suzaku starts crying as he speaks, words about his home town turned outpost when their defences fell to the Britannian knights, about the way Britannia calls them its _citizens_ to tax them but not when they need border security. He’s dehydrated, his throat dry, as he moves on to tell them about the taxation system, the current laws regarding magic use and the codes that the Knighthood holds.

Everything gentle about the two magic users in front of him disappears when he speaks of the Emperor, and even as Suzaku’s mouth runs, he can’t help but wonder what the Emperor did to these two, to make them hate _(fear?)_ him so, to make them go to such lengths.

When he finally falls silent, the sun has nearly set and his throat is raw, eyes swollen and face sticky with dried tears. His head is aching, and stress has pulled his shoulders tight.

Zero hands him another vial of crimson liquid and a handkerchief, looks away as Suzaku wipes his face. “Thank you, Sir Kururugi. It will be easier next time.” It might be touching, his concern, but--

Suzaku laughs bitterly, voice hoarse and throat aching. “You would have me betray my country again and again.” He swallows the vial’s contents faster this time, feels his headache recede and throat throb with sudden pain and subsequent comfort. When he can breathe easily, he says, “I would rather die.”

Zero frowns, previous tenderness erased, as he bites out, “That can certainly be arranged, _knight_.” He gathers the tea set and empty vials with deft movements, steps quickly away from the table and its occupants. “Nunnally, after our dear guest has cleaned himself up, have Arthur show him out.” Then he leaves, nothing but the faint echo of glass in his wake.

Nunnally sighs, and Suzaku turns his gaze onto her, feeling his ears warm in embarrassment.

“Forgive him,” she says, “and me as well.” Her smile is sad, just the smallest upturn of trembling lips. “It frightens him that you are here, and what that means for us.”

Suzaku almost laughs in her face. “I do not pose a threat to you-- to _either_ of you.”

“I hope that’s true.” She responds quietly. “But we cannot trust it to be so, not when you are wearing a blade and the Emperor’s crest.”

A tinkling sound comes to Suzaku’s ears, and he turns, nearly expecting it to be the sorcerer again, carrying more of those vials. Instead, it is a cat, a small gold bell tied around his neck. He opens his mouth, dropping Suzaku’s panic button onto the stone before leaping into Nunnally’s lap to be pet.

“This is Arthur,” Nunnally introduces, stroking the cat’s ears gently. “He’s… the keeper of our grounds, and will be your guide out. I would ask Zero to bid you farewell, but he and Arthur do not-- they don’t get along well.”

“I would be hard pressed to believe _anyone_ got along well with your companion,” Suzaku bites out. He retrieves the panic button, tucking it into his jacket.

After a moment, Nunnally says, her voice colder, “The opinions of ignorant men are the fall of the empire.” She says nothing else, inclining her head when Suzaku bids her farewell. The flash of red in the dragon’s eyes convince Suzaku not to push the matter.

When he finally leaves their home, following the cat’s small form, he looks back, and sees the same idyllic scene he had come across earlier that morning. But in the setting sun, red splashing against the home, the scene seems darker, haunted. Arthur bites him on the ankle when he lingers, and Suzaku blinks away the impression before setting out for the stronghold of the Knighthood.

* * *

It is nearly midnight when he arrives, only stragglers remaining in the dining hall. Suzaku is exhausted, his feet sore, and he lets himself fall into an empty seat, head resting on the table as he takes the chance to relax.

A tap on the back of his head makes him look up warily, but the bright grin that meets him is welcome.

“Gino,” Suzaku greets, pushing himself off of the table.

“Just got back, huh?” The other knight says, pushing a roll of bread towards Suzaku. “Man, the first mission is always a newbie killer.”

Suzaku pauses from where he’s stuffed the bread into his mouth.

Gino laughs, gesturing for him to continue eating. “It’s a hazing mission, Suzaku. And it’s always the same-- the Emperor calls you in, _personally_ , and gives you a map and a story of a long lost princess under capture by an evil sorcerer.”  He waves his hand about, “The daughter of Lady Marianne vi Britannia, who can supposedly see into the future.”

Suzaku nods, biting down on another piece. And they realize that there is no truth to rumor, that Nunnally is there because she wants to be, despite her _extremely poor_ choice of companionship--

“That’s the trick, though, see? Because it doesn’t matter how many knights go out: _no one ever finds the supposed fortress_. There’s just nothing there.” Gino drums his fingers against the table, “The older knights say that the daughter did exist, but _everyone_ knows that Lady Marianne was never the same after her son died. So it’s likely that the daughter died early in childhood and the Emperor just uses her to add a bit more credibility to the story.”  He pats Suzaku on the shoulder, “So don’t worry too much about failing the first mission-- _everyone_ does. You’ll get the next one.”

Suzaku stops chewing, his mouth suddenly dry.


	5. Day 4B: Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now then, down to business,” the sorcerer says to him, and Suzaku goes tense. “Your report.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, I'm terribly sorry about how long it took to get this out! Two quick notes:
> 
> First, the number of chapters have gone up, because the plot will not fit neatly into 7 chapters! I'll be double-dipping a bit with the prompts.
> 
> Second, this chapter is a bit rougher than usual-- I haven't been in a good place to do edits with recent events, so if you see any glaring mistakes, please point them out! It would be much appreciated.

Two months, two bandit attacks, one terse encounter with the _Emperor_ , one agitated but ultimately peaceful patrol of the southern borders, one banquet for visiting nobility, and one completed solo mission pass before Suzaku returns to the home of Lady Nunnally and the sorcerer Zero.

There is a feeling like itching beneath his skin as he approaches the cabin, an urgency that irritates Suzaku for its persistence in the absence of a tangible threat. He avoids the stone pathway when he approaches, treading on the wet grass instead, because Suzaku has learned his lesson _here_ if nowhere else.

And the itching starts to settle, starts to feel more like a pleasant thrumming than the constant distraction it has been on the journey over; but the thought that the mere proximity to this place is calming him is an irritant of its own.

He makes it to the entrance of the home without incident, the smell of roses growing stronger as he approaches. It’s a pleasant smell, one so different than the rank smell of old sweat and horse manure that’s permeated his nose for so long.

The rose bushes around the entrance are lush and healthy, unfurled and vibrant. Suzaku wanders closer to them without thinking. He dips his head forward to inhale more deeply, raising a hand to caress the nearest blossom, and beneath the fragrance he smells something sharp and bitter, startling--

Suzaku jerks back, but not quickly enough: the jolt of electricity screams up his limbs, and the scream that escapes from his lips is muffled only by his surprise. His limbs lock, a burning pain creeping along his skin in spiderwebs, and then, abruptly, numbness.

Suzaku hits the ground, spasming, and in the moment he takes to register what is happening, thorny branches cover him.

 

* * *

 

Suzaku is curling his fingers and toes against the numbness when he hears footsteps and an amused hum. Rotating his head until a thorn catches his cheek, Suzaku stares upwards.

The sorcerer Zero looks down at him with a wry smile. “Good afternoon, knight.”

“You look pleased,” Suzaku says, because the only other topics coming to mind are Zero’s _invasive_ mind control, the fact that he can see Zero’s (admittedly nice) ankles, and the fact that Suzaku has gotten stuck in another trap.

Zero ignores him for a moment, clicking his tongue as he clears withered blossoms from the rose bush. “Nunnally won’t be happy about this,” he murmurs to himself.

He strains to follow the sorcerer with his limited range of head movement. “They’re dead?”

The other male shrugs. “All energy must come from somewhere,” he says. “Even magic has its laws.” He waves a hand over the branches, and Suzaku shivers as they retract from him, delicate thorns tracing over him slowly to join the body of the bush.

He exhales in relief when the mass of branches is no longer caging him in, ignores the residual tingling in his body as he breathes unencumbered.

“Were they smothering you?” The sorcerer asks, almost sounding concerned.

“It was the electricity, more than anything else,” Suzaku admits. He pushes himself upwards, winces at the soreness.

Zero eyes him, and admits, “I’ll have to check on my current brew of the recovery potion-- I gave Nunnally the last of what I had bottled this morning.”

“She’s injured?” Suzaku asks, sharp.

Because if nothing else, Suzaku trusted that the sorcerer would protect her.

And if that is false, then he knows _nothing_ , he trusted this unknown with the life of a princess who might not have known better, who might have been _brainwashed_ by magic. For Zero is certainly a sorcerer who dabbles in mind magic-- and who is to say he would not force others to become his toys? Suzaku forces himself to stay relaxed even as his spasming fingers itch for his blade.

Zero eyes his fingers and sighs. “She performed another scrying yesterday, and her magical circuits are blown again.” He collects the dead blooms into a bag, pulls it closed and makes a sound like the first rainfall after a drought. The sorcerer checks the contents afterwards, nods, and seals it again.

Suzaku stays silent.

“In any case, we should get you out of the yard,” the sorcerer says, and whistles sharply.

An enormous black dog emerges from around the cabin, red eyes gleaming as it pads over to Suzaku.

“You collect animals,” Suzaku says, thoughtlessly.

“What?” Zero eyes him oddly. “No.”

“You have a dragon, a cat, and now a dog.” Suzaku argues.

Zero frowns. “I do not have a dog.”

He points at the animal that is waiting at Zero’s side. “ _That_ is a dog, my dear sorcerer.”

The man blinks, looking stunned for the briefest moment, and then scoffs. “That’s Sayoko.”

 _Sayoko_ , the name echoes in Suzaku’s mind for a moment. Then, _“the dragon?!”_

“Sayoko is whatever she wants to be,” Zero says. “Including a temporary assistant to a paralyzed knight.”

“Dragons can shapeshift?” Suzaku continues, flummoxed, even as Sayoko grips the back of his coat in her teeth.

“You’ve seen this already, knight,” the sorcerer says, “she shifted before you during your last visit, did she not?” He walks into the cabin, holds the door open as Sayoko drags Suzaku into the home.

“That was a lizard to dragon,” Suzaku argues.

“And now she is a dog.” Zero says, dry.

 

* * *

 

Suzaku is arranged on the floor, just inside the door, and Sayoko is sitting on his abdomen.

Zero has vanished into a maze of corridors, muttering about vials and dosage and ingredients. There was an offhand instruction not to move.

Between the burning pain in his limbs and the heavy weight on his belly, Suzaku can do nothing but obey. He inhales as much as he can, tries to shake out the residual tremors that dance up and down his limbs, the irritation that follows gleefully in their path.

It takes a long moment before he controls his breathing enough to help the tremors still. When he looks up, the dragon is eying him and yawns, exposing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth.

“I’m bored,” he says, because if he sits here and concentrates on his body it will start to scream again, aware of the inflammation and his own torn up nerves.

Sayoko blinks at him slowly.

“I would like to visit Lady Nunnally,” Suzaku tries.

The dragon tilts its head, and then steps off of Suzaku’s abdomen.

He sighs in relief, starting to push himself up, when teeth catch the back of his coat again and he finds himself dragged through a maze of dark hallways. Suzaku gives up memorizing the path after Sayoko takes a fifth turn, and when they emerge from the darkness he hears a soft sniffling as they approach a closed door.

It alarms him, as it should alarm all good knights: the sound of a maiden in distress.

Sayoko scratches at the door, loud, and with a soft voice Nunnally grants them entry. The door is pushed as Sayoko drags the knight in backwards, then abandons him on the floor to shrink and blur into a lizard with strange spikes on its shoulders. The dragon crawls up the covers and settles against Nunnally’s neck.

She trills softly against the princess’s cheek, nuzzling with a gentleness that Suzaku hadn’t known the beast was capable of.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to greet you at the door,” Nunnally says, still cradled in her chair. “Zero dashed off rather suddenly that I expect that you set off another trap.” She is smiling, a trembling thing. Her eyes are wrapped in a gauze bandage that is tinted pink with potions, and there is the slight smell of salt and iron in the air.

“It’s no trouble,” Suzaku answers, a beat too late, as he twists himself to better face her. “I’m sorry about your roses.”

“There’s a trick to it,” Nunnally admits. “You’ll learn or die trying.”

The silence that stretches between them is by no means comfortable, a strange and heavy air. It is strange, because this is a tension that he didn’t anticipate-- not when Zero had treated him so casually, like a misplaced guest.

He clears his throat. “Will you answer a question?”

Nunnally sits up straighter, says: “Yes.”

Suzaku looks at her: this injured but proud girl, this person who is so ready to defend her companion and home, and swallows his original question. Instead he says, “Last time, why did Zero use a flashlight? Couldn’t he summon a light ball or something?”

Nunnally’s lips curl up the smallest amount. “Br-- Zero always complains that it is too inefficient when you could operate a flashlight with a rune,” she confides, “but the truth is that he’s rubbish at light manifestation spells. The lights tend to flicker too frequently or be so bright that you can’t use it properly.”

“He isn’t just good at magic in general then?” Suzaku asks.

“Certainly not. Zero is a sorcerer because he is devoting his life to studying the magic, not because he was born to it.” She lets her fingers tap against her chair, lets it pull her to face the window. “There are magics that people are attuned to, of course, just like weapons that suit one knight over another. But it’s rare to find someone like Zero, who specializes over many types of magic.”

“Then why is he out here, in the middle of nowhere?” He wonders aloud.

Nunnally is silent, and he watches the back of her chair.

Another long moment passes and Suzaku says, soft, “Perhaps I have been wrong about who the captive is, between the two of you.”

Before she can retort, they hear a cacophony of footsteps and sharp raps against the door.

“Come in,” Nunnally calls, and the door opens to reveal a slightly haggard Zero, breathing harshly even as he cradles a cloth sack to his chest. His hair is in disarray, his eyes wide, and he breathes out a sigh of annoyance when he finally spots Suzaku lounging on the floor.

“I told you to stay at the entrance,” Zero complains, standing up straight as he struggles to regain his breath.

“It was boring,” Suzaku responds, “and Sayoko brought me here.”

The sorcerer’s eyes dart over to the lizard peering over the top of Nunnally’s chair. The beast flickers her tongue at Zero. “Fine.” He reaches into the bag, tosses a vial of familiar red liquid to Suzaku as he makes his way to the princess’s chair. “Are you ready for your next dose?” His voice is noticeably softer as Zero unstops and hands a vial to her, and Suzaku stamps out the flare of annoyance that rises in his chest.

It’s just that grasping the cap is more difficult than he had anticipated with the trembling that continues to plague his fingers, that’s all. He tries two more times before he gives up, raising the top of the vial to his mouth. Suzaku can use his teeth-- if the sorcerer wanted his vial to be kept pristine, he would have opened it for Suzaku as well.

His loss.

The stopper of the vial is between his clenched teeth, and his grip is as best as it will be against the vial’s body. Suzaku considers how to yank his head to best remove the hindrance, but a touch to his jaw stops him. Following the arm up, he meets the amused eyes of the sorcerer.

When he opens his mouth to comment, Zero smoothly takes and pops open the vial for him, holding it back to Suzaku’s mouth.

Suzaku raises an eyebrow but opens his mouth, letting the sorcerer tip the red fluid into his mouth. The cool tingling is abrupt and sharp, and Suzaku jerks as it races up his limbs. A moment later he lets himself flop onto the floor, wriggling his fingers and toes.

“I thought sorcerers were supposed to wear capes and funny hats,” he mentions to the ceiling.

A snort sounds from somewhere in front of him. “How outdated of you. That’s like assuming that knights would wear skin tight bodysuits and detached sleeves.”

“Fair,” Suzaku supposes.

“Now then, down to business,” the sorcerer says to him, and Suzaku goes tense. “Your report.”

Suzaku rolls away, considers sprinting into the dark hall as the last of the tingling clears its way through his limbs. “I have nothing to tell you.”

Zero sighs, steps forward and reaches forward to tip Suzaku’s face towards him. Unwillingly, Suzaku meets his eyes before glancing away. “I had hoped that you would be cooperative this time.”

“Never,” Suzaku responds.

The sorcerer gives him a rueful smile. “Perhaps next time you will be.” Then he says, soft as their eyes meet:

“Tell me about Britannia.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always adored, and helps keep the writer's block away. <3


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